He'd watched herwalk to the kitchen, her round, full ass; he'd seen the wisps of smoke asthey seeped out from her inside her as she spoke, he heard he... voice butnot her words. He smelled the freshness from her hair and the lightfloral scent of a perfume. But now, with those small hands with their painted nails, resting on histhighs, her body leaning so closely....the pink-lipsticked lips...thatview down her cleavage to the round insides of her breasts...that look,that pleading look in her. Mary walked onto the porch to call us to supper, but she did not seem to react to what Joan and I were doing. I assumed that indicated her tacit approval. I sure hoped so. My next question was whether John, Joan’s father, would approve of me.By this time, John had progressed in his healing enough that he could join the rest of the family at the supper table while sitting in a home-made wheel chair. He was obviously in pain if he sat up too long, but he could stand it long enough to be present. Disgusted again at herself that somehow she had enjoyed this, OMG!… She did?…OMG! She did enjoy it! . It had been harsh brutal and furious, like most rapes are, and spontaneous, in many ways. She now even more upset with herself and, with her head again spinning, was slowly able to get up at first onto her knees, then to her feet. Still naked and shaking, wearing only her suspender belt stockings and red heels! She opened the door just enough to peek out, in one direction dancing, noise, music,. One a close up of his cock semi-hard and another of his reflection in a mirror fully erect sort of cupping his big balls. She turned her phone back and put it down.I knew she was hiding something, and I had sort of guessed what it might be.“Did you thank Ben for the pics then?...” I smirked as she turned to take a gulp of wine.“What do you mean?” She stammered.“Show me the chat please, I won’t be mad, I promise,” I said, motioning my hand towards my growing erection in my jogging.
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